On Friday night, September 5, more than 50 of the world’s most famous TV, film, music and sports personalities came together in an unprecedented television event to raise money in the fight against cancer and related blood disorders. The show, called “Stand Up to Cancer“(SU2C), introduced the efforts of an organization by the same name whose stated mission is to help advances in cancer research as rapidly as possible. Viewers across America tuned in to see how some of the brightest minds in cancer research – “Dream Teams” of scientists, clinicians, technicians and other experts – are working together to find a cure for the disease that kills one person every minute.

Naturally, attention is duly paid to survivors of this disease. But those who mourn the loss of a loved one who did not survive often get overlooked.

What can be said about the journey of those who grieve? How do the families and friends who lost a loved one learn to adapt to the new world ahead of them?

The answer may be found in the story of Gana.

Last week, newspapers across Europe and America posted pictures of an 11-year-old Gorilla named Gana clutching the corpse of her three-month-old baby Claudio for days before surrendering his lifeless body to zookeepers. As Gana persisted in cradling her baby, questions by primatologists, psychologists and other social scientists arose, such as: Do animals have a cognitive appreciation of their own mortality? Do they grieve as adult humans do? Or are they simply confused?

In her September 2nd article in the New York Times, Natalie Angier presented data by scientists that suggested a different theory: that elaborate displays of primate maternal grief, like those of Gana toward her son, reveal less about our shared awareness of death than they do about our shared impulse to act as if death never happened.

Indeed, for many of us, a common mode of coping with the awareness of death is denial, and this system of denial rests on two major premises: We are either personally inviolable to death (“It won’t happen to me”), or we are protected eternally by an ultimate deity or rescuer. Coined by Otto Rank as a “death fear,” our anxiety of separation, loss and lack of connectedness causes us to employ either one of these two fundamental defenses.

“The mind blanks at the glare,” wrote the British poet Philip Larkin in his famous poem entitled “Aubade,” as he contemplated the “dread of dying, and being dead.”

But in bearing witness to our pain, and in tolerating a mourner’s need to grieve in whatever way we feel works for us, a true listener can aid us in our journey from denial towards acceptance. Gana’s need was similar to our own human need to be taken seriously, to be understood and responded to. When one bears witness to our inner world, to our unspeakable fears or forbidden fantasies, one acknowledges and affirms our importance, and we come to discover that denial is not the only mode of coping with a death.

With love and patience, we come to learn that suffering, and the strength needed to endure grief, is not a linear process. It more resembles a spiral staircase on whose steps are the themes of loss, anger, disbelief, and the hope for eventual repair. Like Gana holding her dead baby in her arms, we humans require time to wrap ourselves in our grief. We require attention and respect, and the freedom to express our disbelief, our anger, and our confusion, until – like Gana surrendering her son – acceptance eventually melts away the coldness of our denial.